


The Season of Poultry

by wordsmisleadinghere



Series: Happy Steve Bingo 2018 [4]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Cooking, Dialogue Heavy, Domestic Fluff, Food, Happy Steve Bingo, Idiots in Love, M/M, Seriously they're gross get them away from me, Thanksgiving
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-21
Updated: 2018-11-21
Packaged: 2019-08-27 02:06:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16693372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wordsmisleadinghere/pseuds/wordsmisleadinghere
Summary: By the time Steve returned home he never wanted to hear the words “poultry” or “seasoning” ever again.





	The Season of Poultry

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Happy Steve Bingo prompt “Last Jar of Ingredient on Thanksgiving Eve.”

“Ohhh, _fuck_!”

Steve had been given strict orders to stay out of the kitchen. Orders he was more than happy to follow given that he and the cooking portions of kitchens had never exactly gotten along. And for the duration of Thanksgiving preparations, it was strictly Scott’s domain. Steve didn’t want to get in the way of that flurry of vegetables and pie crust.

That is, until the sounds of chopping and stovetops were replaced with banging cabinets and shouting.

“Something wrong?” he asked, leaning in the doorway.

Scott spun in his direction, eyes and hair wild. “Can you go to the store?” he asked urgently.

“I thought we finished shopping.”

“So did I! But my calculations were off and I just ran out of poultry seasoning.”

As Steve slowly entered the room he caught sight of one of the counters, covered in four huge trays filled with mountains of crumbled bread and an assembly line of ingredients waiting to be added to them. “That’s… a _lot_ of dressing, Scott.”

“ _Well_ ,” he crossed his arms defensively. “We invited over twenty people. You and Thor alone are probably gonna eat a tray each.”

For a brief moment Steve considered protesting, but instead shrugged sheepishly. “I do love your dressing.”

Scott’s lips quirked in a fleeting smile. “ _Please_ go. I have to watch the pies.”

“I can do that.”

“Steven,” he said, his tone grave. “I trust you with my life. Not with my pies.”

“Alright, alright,” Steve laughed, rubbing the tension from Scott’s upper arms. “I’ll go.”  

“Thank you,” Scott murmured and leaned into Steve’s embrace.

“Need anything else?”

“No, I think we’re good. But keep your phone on you just in case.”

“Will do,” he smiled and kissed Scott’s forehead.

*

By the time Steve returned home he never wanted to hear the words “poultry” or “seasoning” ever again.

“What on earth happened?” Scott asked as he took the plastic bag from Steve and led him to the kitchen.

“Apparently everyone in the damn state ran out of poultry seasoning at the same time, because I couldn’t find any anywhere. It was so bad I accidentally cut in front of an old lady to get the last can at Shoprite.”

“Yikes,” Scott grimaced.

“I know,” Steve groaned, hanging his head. “And she missed her bus. So I gave her a ride to A&P and then home ‘cause I felt fucking terrible about it all.”  He kept his gaze averted to the floor, but let Scott pull him into a hug, resting his head on Scott’s shoulder, before he hastily whispered, “And I might’ve invited Edna to dessert tomorrow.”

Scott shook with laughter and pressed a kiss behind Steve’s ear. “You’re ridiculous and wonderful.”

Steve grunted then tried to shake his head without dislodging it from Scott’s shoulder, but it only made Scott laugh more.

“Yes, you are and I am so lucky.”

Ordinarily, Steve would continue to protest, but he already knew this was one argument Scott would never let him win. Instead, he allowed himself to savor Scott’s words and embrace, if only for a little while, until his humility kicked in and he lifted his head.

“This better be the best dressing you’ve ever made,” he said teasingly.

Scott chuckled, stroking the side of Steve’s neck, “I’m afraid I can’t guarantee that.”

Steve attempted his best puppy face in response.

“But,” Scott said, pointedly ignoring it and heading to the fridge. “Since you had to go through so much trouble, I might as well give you your surprise early.”

“What surprise?”

“Well, if you knew about it, it wouldn’t be a very good one, would it?”

Then he handed Steve a glass dish. Steve carefully removed the lid and was instantly hit with a familiar scent that made him grin widely.

“Apple cake? Where’d you get this?”

“I made it.” Steve could only stare at him wide-eyed, touched that he’d take the time to do such a thing when he was already so busy. Scott just shrugged bashfully, “You said you don’t do pies, but I couldn’t let you go without any dessert.”

Eventually, he placed the dish on a nearby counter then cupped Scott’s face. “Thank you.” Scott beamed at him and when they kissed Steve could still feel him smiling.

As the kiss deepened, that smile melted away, swollen lips and pink cheeks in its place.  

“Steve,” he breathed, hands bunched in Steve’s shirt as he trailed kisses down Scott’s neck.

“I think you need a break right about now.”

“But I still have to… prep the Brussels sprouts,” he said, yanking the bag off the counter as Steve walked them backwards toward the door.

“Scott. I hate Brussels sprouts.” 

“Oh?”

He nodded, “And for that matter, so do you.” 

Scott frowned for a moment. “You’re right.” With that, he tossed the sprouts over his shoulder and they landed with a slap on the floor, rolling along as Scott hopped up to wrap his legs around Steve’s waist. “Let’s go.”

Steve laughed, heading to their bedroom. “You know something? You’re pretty ridiculous and wonderful yourself.”


End file.
